Chương 11
Pike said, “We know.”
“But he used to work there.”
Both men stopped.
Shaw said, “When?”
“Before Noah was born.”
Pike stared at me.
“That wasn’t in his employment history.”
I felt the floor shift beneath me again.
“He worked there for two years.”
“What role?”
“I don’t remember the title.”
“Finance?”
“No.”
I searched my memory.
Daniel had hated talking about those years.
Whenever I asked why he left, he said the culture was toxic and the hours were worse.
“Compliance,” I said.
Shaw’s face changed.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Pike said, “That makes no sense.”
“Why?”
“Because Harker told us Daniel had never been an employee.”
The phone on the tray vibrated again.
No one touched it.
A new message appeared.
ASK GRAHAM WHAT HAPPENED IN 2009.
Then another.
ASK HIM WHY DANIEL LEFT.
For the first time that night, Shaw looked genuinely startled.
Pike read the messages twice.
Then he looked at me.
“Did Daniel ever tell you what happened in 2009?”
“No.”
“Anything about Harker that year?”
“No.”
Noah rubbed his eyes.
“Wasn’t that before I was born?”
“Yes.”
“How long before?”
“About a year.”
Shaw stepped away from the bed and called someone.
His voice dropped too low for me to follow, but I heard Graham Harker’s name twice.
Pike stayed near the tray table.
“Think carefully.”
“I am.”
“Anything unusual from that period?”
“I met Daniel in 2010.”
Pike stopped.
“You didn’t know him then?”
“No.”
“So everything you know about his time at Harker came from him.”
“Yes.”
Noah looked at me.
“That’s not good.”
“No.”
Pike said, “When did you first learn he’d worked there?”
“Maybe our third or fourth date.”
“What did he say?”
“That he had done compliance work for a private financial firm and hated it.”
“Did he name Harker?”
“I think so.”
“You think.”
“It was sixteen years ago.”
Pike nodded.
“Fair.”
The phone vibrated again.
This time only one line appeared.
HE KEPT COPIES.
Shaw ended his call.
“Copies of what?”
“No idea.”
He looked at the phone.
“Whoever is sending these may be trying to redirect the investigation toward Harker.”
Pike said, “Or finally pointing us toward him.”
Shaw gave him a look.
“You were ready to arrest Mercer for homicide six hours ago.”
“And you were ready to call this financial fraud.”
“That was based on the evidence.”
“Which somebody planted.”
“Some of it may have been planted.”
Pike folded his arms.
“This is why local cops hate federal verbs.”
Noah whispered, “I kind of like him now.”
I gave him a tired look.
Pike heard and almost smiled.
Shaw said, “Graham Harker is being contacted.”
“By who?” I asked.
“Agents.”
“Will they tell him about the messages?”
“No.”
“About me?”
“He already knows who you are.”
That answer landed badly.
“What does that mean?”
“You attended company events.”
“So did hundreds of people.”
Shaw glanced at the photograph of Noah.
“I’m aware.”
I felt my shoulders tighten.
“Do you think Harker had that taken?”
“We don’t know.”
“Do you think he ordered Daniel to drug us?”
“We don’t know.”
“Do you think he has Erin?”
“We don’t know.”
Noah said, “You guys should print that on the badges.”
Pike looked at him.
“Believe it or not, uncertainty is better than making things up.”
Noah stared at the blanket.
“Doesn’t feel better.”
“No.”
The room quieted.
Shaw’s phone buzzed.
He checked it.
“What?” Pike asked.
“Riverside unit 314 is open.”
I stood.
“You opened it?”
“The team did.”
“What about Erin?”
“We had no reliable way to verify the threat, and there were indications the unit could contain evidence related to an immediate danger.”
My anger rose instantly.
“You gambled with her life.”
Shaw’s face hardened.
“We did not let an unknown sender dictate police action.”
“That is a polished way to say the same thing.”
Noah said, “Mom.”
I turned away before I said something useless.
Pike asked, “What’s inside?”
Shaw read the message again.
“Boxes.”
“What kind?”
“Records.”
“Anything else?”
“A cot.”
My skin went cold.
“A cot?”
“Yes.”
“Blood?”
“None reported.”
“Restraints?”
He looked at the next message.
“Zip ties, duct tape, bottled water.”
Noah whispered, “That was for us.”
No one contradicted him.
Shaw continued reading.
“There’s a laptop.”
“Whose?” Pike asked.
“No markings.”
“Phone?”
“No.”
“Documents?”
“Several banker boxes, folders, old personnel files.”
He paused.
“And photographs.”
My stomach tightened.
“Of what?”
Shaw’s expression changed.
“Of people.”
“Who?”
He did not answer immediately.
“Daniel is in several.”
My mouth went dry.
“What kind of photographs?”
“Surveillance.”
Noah looked at me.
“Like mine?”
“Yes.”
Shaw scrolled.
“Some date back years.”
Pike moved closer.
“How many?”
“At least dozens.”
“Victims?”
“Unknown.”
“Employees?”
“Some.”
Shaw looked up.
“Erin is in several.”
Pike said, “Marcus?”
“Yes.”
“And Claire?”
Shaw checked again.
“Yes.”
My knees weakened.
“How far back?”
He waited.
I hated that pause before he spoke.
“2010.”
The year I met Daniel.
Noah stared at me.
“You were being watched before I was born?”
“I don’t know.”
Shaw turned the phone toward Pike.
“Apparently.”
I sat down.
The hospital blanket had slipped to the floor, but I did not pick it up.
“What was I doing?”
Shaw hesitated.
“Some photos show you entering restaurants, leaving an apartment building, walking with Daniel.”
“Which apartment?”
“He lived on Fulton then?”
“Yes.”
Pike said, “So someone documented their relationship from the beginning.”
Noah looked at me.
“Did Dad know?”
I could not answer.
Then I remembered the way Daniel had always disliked being photographed in public.
Not family pictures.
Not vacations.
Only restaurants, parties, anything posted online.
For years, he had joked that he had an unphotogenic face.
Once, when a friend tagged him in a fundraiser picture, he had called the friend directly and asked her to remove it.
At the time, I had thought he was vain.
“Maybe,” I said.
Shaw heard it.
“What?”
“He hated public pictures.”
“Since when?”
“Always.”
“That could mean nothing.”
“I know.”
May you like
“But it might not.”
I looked at him.
